I Have a Reason to Hate Streamers - Chapter 6: Gawol ()

Overnight, she was betrayed by her fiancé and sister, and was forced by her family to marry a fool. On the wedding day, everyone was waiting eagerly to laugh at her and see how she would get her foolish husband to put on the wedding ring. However, she took out her marriage certificate, which shocked the world, because the man on the certificate was not her ex-fiancé or that fool, but...

Lee Junghoo died in a car accident. He braved each and every hardships in Jaiden’s body in hopes that he would survive once he cleared the game of the gods but just when the Empire’s strongest family was about to fall and killed by the monsters…

Based on these words, it seemed like he still had another chance.

1 Stop the destruction of the continent.

2 Survive until the age of 35.

He was given these two main quests. He had tried to finish the first one during the beta test. However, he realized that there was no solution to this problem. So this time, he was going to pick the second.

And the first step for him to achieve this was to leave this crazy family of his.

“Maybe the answer is running away from home?”

When an ordinary gamer wakes up in the body of Ellen Joe, a high schooler and an elite member of Victoria Housekeeping Co., life takes a bizarre turn. Known for tackling everything from cleaning and yardwork to securing rare items and fighting off monsters, the company operates more like a covert squad than a housekeeping service.Caught between school deadlines and deadly Hollow missions, the protagonist struggles to maintain Ellen’s demanding dual life. Armed with Ellen’s ice-infused scissors and sharp wit, they navigate a world of high-stakes combat and meticulous chores while trying to keep their true identity hidden. But as Ellen’s habits and instincts creep into their own, the line between their life and hers begins to blur.

I am Racist.…I mean, my name is Racis T.I was a stand-up comedian. The flop kind. The type who only got laughs when someone else was roasting him.One night, I was doing a gig at a shady, run-down bar—the kind where tattooed bikers drink motor oil for breakfast. I went in with my usual dark humor, but my jokes were getting the same reaction as my dating profile: complete silence.That didn’t sit right with my inner artist, who was already starving to death. So I did what any committed comedian would—I went darker.Turns out, one of my jokes (or all of them?) triggered a guy so hard that he pulled a trigger. Headshot. Instant death.But hey, look at this: A guy got triggered, so he pulled the trigger. That’s wordplay. But who cares? I’m dead anyway.All I wanted was a successful show, people laughing, and maybe a few girls swooning over my wit. I never cared about money. The millions I’d have made would have gone to charity—specifically, 0.001% of it. See? I’m generous like that.Anyway, death is death. My story should’ve ended there.But… if there is an afterlife, I had a simple wish: become a successful comedian, find a loving wife, and have just enough money to afford three meals a day… and maybe a humble little private yacht. Or a jet. But that’s it. Because, like I said, I don’t care about money.Unfortunately, wishes don’t work that way.Because, well—there was an afterlife.And it was absolutely not what I wished for.